Eyes of Love
by Jaye Reid
Summary: Words aren't necessary to say I love you.


Title: Eyes of Love

By Jaye Reid

Written: 21.11.2000

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be! But if I keep writing pieces at this rate, I think I am going to have to put in for shares in them!

Rating: PG

Category: V, Shipper.

Spoilers: Nothing in particular.

Summary: Words aren't necessary to say I love you.

Authors notes: Don't ask me where this came from, because I have no idea. It just did.

Thanks to Bridget for beta reading.

WARNING: If you are deceived, I most certainly don't mean to offend if that happens ...

~*~*~*~

I walk up the steps and into the kitchen.

Harm and I joke about it being like feeding time at the zoo. I chuckle to myself, dinner time is always chaos around here.

There's an envelope sitting on the bench waiting for me. "Mrs. Harmon Rabb Jr." I smile as I pick it up. I've always cherished the feelings that this title gives me. I never thought about it as losing my identity. I'm always going to be his Mac, his Sarah. Okay, so I'm not an active Marine these days, but I'll *always* be a Marine.

I've never regretted changing my role to wife and mother. It's been everything I thought it would be and a whole lot more. Semper fi - always.

Back to the task at hand.

Dinner.

I will have mine later. Today, well today I think... I look into the refrigerator. Hmm... this mashed concoction looks interesting. I've been told, and I have read, that this consistency is best for digestion at this age. Ick, I say! But I don't want it spat back at me! I have learnt that anything with 'chunky bits' lends itself to be spat back at me. 

Damn brat!

It's the same routine. Food heated, bowl, spoon, bib. I wander out of the kitchen and into the dining room. I am surprised to find Harm there. He's early for a change. When did he come in? I usually see everything from the kitchen. It doesn't matter, I never mind seeing his face.

"Hey ya flyboy," I say with a smile.

Oh, he just looks at me with those eyes. I still melt in those eyes! He looks at the bowl of mush. 

"I know what you're thinking, the same as I am, ick!" I tell him. "But the books say..."

He rolls his eyes. I know. He thinks I read too many of those damn books.

My 'zoo animal' is waiting for me and I smile. Bib now on to catch the mess, not that there is usually much. I've found it depends on the food.

Sometimes I wonder how I got myself into this. But then I remember. It was because my flyboy finally let go and told me he wanted to spend his life with me. He wanted me as his wife, as the mother of his children.

He wanted me forever.

And that's exactly what I wanted too.

He's sitting back watching me. It's a special time, anytime we are together is. He doesn't need to say a word, I can read his eyes so well.

We both can.

Soon the bowl is empty.

"No spitting up," I joke.

Harm is laughing at me.

His eyes are laughing at me.

I see him glance at the clock on the wall.

I tell him it isn't time for me to go yet.

He blinks at me.

"You're tired aren't you?" I ask. "Been chasing the nurses all day in your wheelchair have you flyboy?"

I see the love he has for me in his eyes. He has always talked to me with his eyes. Now it is the only way we can communicate. I know he would never look at anyone else. But his eyes are tired, I see that too.

"Hang on and I will put you to bed," I say as I quickly return the empty bowl to the kitchen and throw the bib in the basket by the door marked miscellaneous laundry.

Soon I am wheeling him slowly towards his room.

My heart ached when the kids and I had to make the decision. I knew I was getting past looking after him at home. But I battled on for as long as I could. We were both so stubborn. Then the stroke...

I had no choice. He knew that, he never let me feel that I was making the wrong decision. We trust each other. We have been together long enough to just... know.

Despite this, he still tried to push me away at first. Supposedly to get on with my life. Ha! He forgot how stubborn I can be. I told him he was a fool if he thought I could ever love him less. I reminded him that I promised for eternity and that's just how it was going to be. At 85, I doubted I could just skip out to the nearest Navy base and pick myself up another flyboy in dress whites and gold wings. He took long enough to train as it was, and I wasn't prepared to train another man at this point in my life.

So I come and visit him every morning, and then return in the evening to feed him his dinner. Most nights I help put him in his bed and hold his hand and talk to him about our life together until he falls asleep.

And I whisper semper fi my love, as I kiss him goodnight to leave him fly safely in his dreams.

The end.


End file.
